Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 2231
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(aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2231 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad
All Rights Reserved. |
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“You wanted to speak with me,” Sam Rose reminded me.
“Yes. I still don’t know if Danni is transgendered.”
“Oh dear, in which case she could be stuck with a lifestyle that is going to prove wrong for her.”
“That’s my worry.”
“How long has she lived in role?”
“A few months.”
“And she’s now effectively post op?”
“Yes, frightening isn’t it?”
“What does Stephanie say?”
“She isn’t sure either.”
“So she could find herself as a female to male transperson?”
“That is my nightmare.”
“Oh dear. I don’t know what to say.”
“There is nothing to say. Mr O’Rourke had no option but to go for the vaginoplasty because that was what Pia intended.”
“It’s a pain when being outmanoeuvred by a thirteen year old.”
“Try a nine year old,” I suggested.
“Ah no. I know my limitations. Why d’you think I palmed her off on you?”
“Obviously not for the reasons I thought it was.”
He smirked. “She’s done well with you.”
“I suppose she has. Have I done well with her though?”
“I think you’ve done remarkably well with her and by her. She’s a challenge but I think you’re one of the few people who could cope with it. You truly are a tzidkanit, aren’t you?”
“Didn’t you call me that once before?”
“I did, and I stand by it. I’ll also tell you that I’ve only ever called one other person it, and she died in a refugee camp in Jordan trying to save the lives of others.”
“Compared to her, I’m not worthy.”
“Who said I was comparing you? I was complimenting you. Now go and look after your newest daughter, but do it proudly as a tzidkanit–as a special one.”
I hugged him and went back into Danni’s room where the nurse was finishing washing her. “Here’s your mum, she can wash your hair for you.”
“Will you, Mummy?”
“Wash your hair?”
“Yeah, I know it’s short but it’s all greasy and ’orrible.”
“How about I ask Phoebe or Julie to do it for you tonight and to bring in a hairdryer to tidy it up?”
“Can’t you do it?”
“I didn’t bring any shampoo with me, darling.”
“Oh all right, ask Julie tonight.”
A woman police officer poked her head round the door, “Is this the boy that was castrated?”
I glared at her but Danni shrugged and said, “I haven’t seen any boys in here, have you, Mummy?”
“No I haven’t, darling,” I said refusing to break eye contact with this latest incarnation of plod mentality.
“The ward sister said he was in this room,” she blushed.
“This is a female ward, isn’t it?” I asked her.
“This end is, so is he up the other end?”
“How would I know?” I replied.
Okay, thanks.” She wandered off. I knew she’d be back and would be ratty but I didn’t like her attitude and would tell her so.
“Is she looking for me, d’you reckon?” asked Danni.
“Almost certainly. I doubt that yours is a common injury.”
“Me neither.”
I combed out Danni’s hair while we waited. She bumbled back in looking very grumpy. “Very funny–I don’t think.”
I shrugged, “You were looking for a boy, this is a girl.”
“Now, by all accounts. I’ve come to take a statement, if he/she can remember.”
“I think that from now on, the only pronoun that will be apposite for Danielle is a feminine one.”
“Okay, will it be all right if I take a statement from her.
“Ask her, not me.”
“You’re her mother?”
“Yes, but she’s thirteen and therefore able to tell you if she feels up to talking about it.”
“Do you, Danielle?”
“If you like.”
“I would like, we need to decide if there is enough evidence to prosecute your little friend with the scalpel.”
“Didn’t her parents make a statement?”
“I have no idea, I’ve only been told to speak with you.”
Danni agreed to talk to her and I intervened saying that this was still a very emotional subject to discuss and if I considered she was in too much distress, she would have to leave. She agreed but with reluctance.
She was there about an hour by which time Danni was flagging and I was getting ready to throw her out when she announced she had enough. She also apologised for her earlier insensitivity and told Danni she made a pretty girl and wished her good luck. Danni went off to sleep beaming with pride.
I’m sure that quite a significant number of people think transgender folk are like drag queens or have two heads. They seem genuinely surprised that we’re as normal as anyone else and just as nice.
A nurse came round with cups of tea and I took one gratefully. Danni had one too. When the nurse had gone, I said to her, “I didn’t think you liked tea?”
“I don’t, this is for you.” She handed me the cup, so I had to drink two cups of tea–but I think I was up to it.
She eventually had to give in to sleep and I made my escape leaving her to snooze and recover some of her strength. I did a little shopping on the way home worrying what we were going to give as presents this year–oh shit–I hadn’t done my cards even. I felt really dejected by the time I got home and it must have been obvious because Jacquie noticed it.
I was tired, stressed and too close to Christmas for comfort. I admitted that I hadn’t done my cards and she offered to help me. After a quick lunch we set to and I wrote the cards while she addressed them. Next year, I determined to do a label set up on the computer–a job for Sammi while she’s recovering, perhaps.
Later, I posted the cards on the way to hospital. Danni was sleeping so I went to see Sammi whose boyfriend was there so I spoke briefly to them and went off to see Danni again. She was still sleeping so I just sent her love as I sat down beside her. After a few minutes she called out my name, although still asleep. I answered her and she settled down again. Some five minutes later she woke up and said, “I was dreaming you were here, everything was covered in this blue light, so I knew you were about.”
“I think it was just a dream, darling.”
“No, because you were here when I woke up.”
“I think that would disprove your argument, wouldn’t it?”
“I dunno,” she said, “I’m too tired to argue.” She looked at me and said, “I still can’t believe I’m really a girl, I really can’t.”
“It takes more than having a vagina to be a girl, darling.”
“Yeah, I know that, but it like helps, doesn’t it?”
“Of course it does.”
“I means I’ve got to sit to wee an’ things.”
I wasn’t sure how I felt about her superficial understanding of being female. However I gave her the benefit of the doubt. She was after all still recovering from a general anaesthetic and a very powerful and emotional experience, not to mention a traumatic one. It was therefore not the time or place to judge her, and in doing so, myself.
